The Life and Experiences of an Ex-Convict in Port Macquarie

By Woomera

DigiCat Publishing presents to you this special edition of "The Life and Experiences of an Ex-Convict in Port Macquarie" by Woomera. DigiCat Publishing considers every written word to be a legacy of humankind. Every DigiCat book has been carefully reproduced for republishing in a new modern format. The books are available in print, as well as ebooks. DigiCat hopes you will treat this work with the acknowledgment and passion it deserves as a classic of world literature.

• Language: English
• Publisher: DigiCat
• Release date: Sep 4, 2022
• ISBN: 8596547220244

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Woomera

The Life and Experiences of an Ex-Convict in Port Macquarie

EAN 8596547220244

DigiCat, 2022

Contact: [e-mail]

Table of Contents

INTRODUCTION.

CHAPTER I. Farewell To My Native Land.

CHAPTER II. Arrival at Sydney.

CHAPTER III. Fresh Fields and Pastures New.

CHAPTER IV. To Port Macquarie.

CHAPTER V. The Iron Gang.

CHAPTER VI. Assigned to Lake Innes.

CHAPTER VII. The Blind Mob.

CHAPTER VIII. The Road Parties.

CHAPTER IX. Specials and Others.

CHAPTER X. Some Notable Constables.

CHAPTER XI. At Rollands Plains.

CHAPTER XII. The Female Convicts.

CHAPTER XIII. Some Practical Jokes.

CHAPTER XIV. The Aborigines.

CHAPTER XV. A Free Man.

CHAPTER XVI. The Yacht Wanderer.

The Rosetta Joseph.

CHAPTER XVII. Escape of Prisoners.

CHAPTER XVIII. A LAST WORD.

INTRODUCTION.

Table of Contents

Port Macquarie, as is generally known, was one of the first Settlements made in New South Wales. It is intended herein to give a full and authentic synopsis of the Life of the Oldest Living Ex-Convict on the Hastings River, near Port Macquarie, extending from the thirties onwards. The information comes purely from memory, hence exact dates on which certain events occurred cannot be given; nevertheless the greatest care has been taken to give dates as near as possible.

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The Life of an Ex-Convict.

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CHAPTER I.

Farewell To My Native Land.

Table of Contents

The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together; our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not, and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our virtues.

—Shakespeare.

I was born at Shoreditch, near London, on the 28th of May, 1819, and was nearing the age of sixteen when one day I was accused of committing a paltry theft. Of this I was innocent, and naturally denied it, but the constable who accosted me insisted, no matter what I said, that I had to go with him. My feelings were anything but high-flown as I passed along the street with him—what boy's feelings would be?—on the other hand they were down almost below zero. It was no use; I soon realised my position, it was this:—If I am found guilty of this offence—and I have little hope of proving my innocence—Heaven only knows where I may find myself. My trial came on before a Bench of Magistrates in Worship Street, London, on July the 3rd, 1834, and I was committed to take my trial. When a man had the bad luck to get committed, he was sent to Clerkenwell, or to the Old Bailey, and if he listened to the conversations of his associates at either of these places, during intervals that he might be remanded, it was quite possible that a previously innocent man would be converted into an adept at picking pockets and house-screwing. I was a new-chum in places of this kind, and also at such pursuits. New-chums generally fell into, and were made the subject of, numbers of practical jokes, too, at the hands of these fellows, and I was saved none the less in this respect. Go upstairs and get the bellows, one of them said to me: and when I got to the top of the stairs, some others sent me to the far end of the ward for it. On arrival there, another crowd met me with knotted handkerchiefs, and 'pasted' me all the way back. Pricking a crow's nest, was another of their games. This consisted in making a round ring on the wall with a piece of charcoal, and placing a black dot in the centre of it. One was then blindfolded, and his object was to place his finger on this black dot; but instead of doing this, another fellow stood with open mouth to receive the finger, and he didn't forget to bite it either. If anyone took money into this place they might as well say 'au revoir' to it, for they were not asleep. After a few days of this life my trial came on—I was sentenced to Australia for 7 years' penal servitude. Then I was sent to Newgate, and when the door opened there, I was met by a large number of Jack Shepherds, all in irons, and the place was as dismal-looking as the grave. First I entered the receiving-room, and remained there a day; afterwards I was put in with a fine assemblage of characters, and one might as well begin to count the stars in the Heavens as attempt to define who was the worst individual there. Night came on and I began to look around for a bed; this I found consisted of a rug and a mat, of which I availed myself. If a man was sentenced to seven years he was only kept there for a few days, and was then taken in irons, by means of a van, to the hulk at Portsmouth. This was the fate I shared. On arrival there I was stripped of my clothes, and after the barber came round and cut my hair so close that it was only with difficulty I could catch hold of it, I was washed from two tubs of water which stood close by. Then I was dressed in a pair of knee breeches, stockings, shirt, and a pair of shoes so large that I could have almost crossed the Atlantic in them, and a hat capable of weathering the greatest hurricane that ever blew. Whilst on board the hulk an old Jew paid several visits, for the purpose of buying up all the ordinary clothes of the men, and no matter how new a suit might be, it was either a matter of take half-a-crown for it or throw it away. Fortunately, my best clothes were left behind, and I lost nothing by this.

I remained on the hulk from Friday till Monday morning, and was then transferred to what was known as the Bay Ship—the Hoogly—by means of